[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth, Proprietor of the Pony

Heaving an audible sigh, Andreth lowered her lanky frame into the cushioned chair that sat next to the hearth, kicking off her shoes and wriggling her toes to sooth the painful cramp in her arch. Her aching feet were the least of her problems. The day had been filled with tumult and confusion, with one minor upset following another in rapid succession: too many guests requesting accomodations and not enough willing to share beds, plus a newly hired maid who insisted on burning the toast and another who'd dumped an entire flagon of ale onto one of Bree's most prominent burghurs. Added to that was the endless stream of youngsters tearing in and out of the common room all afternoon, including that ill-tempered Will Farroweed, whom she'd chased out with a broom several times.

Worse still had been the report brought by the Ranger who spoke of outsiders camped not far from Bree routinely accosting travellers on the road and contemplating an attack on the town. A bitter memory tugged at her heart. Andreth involuntarily shuddered recalling that it was just such folk who'd been responsible for the death of her husband Bercil scarcely a year before. What the outlaws actually intended to do was beyond her knowing. But she sincerely hoped they would pack up their belongings and continue walking down the roadway. No good would come of it. In a time of dearth, there was simply nothing left to share.

Andreth stared down at the firepit as if transfixed; the leaping flames had turned to dust leaving behind a soft mound of silver-grey ash still framed in a halo of orange sparks. Random thoughts drifted in and out of her mind, snatches of conversations overheard while she'd tended bar or helped the maids serve the meals. As proprietor of the Pony, she was privy to a host of secrets spoken in half-hushed tones between friends and family who gathered at the Inn to exchange views on the news of the day.

Today, she had gotten an earful. Those who'd come to gossip and eat had been uniformly negative in their assessment, not only about the bandits but also the proclamation that Breelanders attend a meeting that evening and cooperate with the hobbits in devising a plan for the defense of the city.

Andreth had not heard a single adult Breelander voice support for that idea. The only exception had been little Kari, Alvinac's daughter, who'd recently borrowed her book on hobbits, an old volume Bercil had picked up on his constant travels through the countryside while gathering provisions for the Inn.

Even Harald and Minastan had been negative in their appraisals. While the words of the Mayor and Ranger were considerably more moderate than others she'd heard that day, their overall assessment was basically the same: they regarded hobbits as a nuisance at best, an unwanted drain when every resource was desperately needed to defeat the double threat of drought and possible outlaw attack. She wondered who was responsible for the measure suggesting that the Big and Little Folk cooperate. If not Minastan, then perhaps the hobbit Ranger who'd come along with him or some other senior Ranger, perhaps one of the direct descendents of the Edain.

Her own views were still not fixed. She'd had little contact with hobbits other than her polite conversation with Mausi earlier that day and the times she'd served them half-pints in the Inn in exchange for their hard earned pennies. She'd never regarded herself as a defender of hobbits, yet something inside wondered if it was fair to judge a people wholly by their outward appearance, and whether they might not have more to offer than other folk supposed.

As Andreth leaned back and closed her eyes trying to shut out the weariness of the day, she heard the tolling of the 8 o'clock curfew bell that signalled the closing of the gates for the night. Her face registered sudden surprise as she jumped up hastily from the chair and threw a shawl over her shoulders, heading for the door. The meeting was to have begun a half hour before. In her pointless musings, she'd totally forgotten that.

With a final glance at Edmund to make certain he was asleep, Andreth ran out into the street and sprinted towards the market square where the assembly was to take place under an array of burning torches. She was only a block away when she guessed that everything was not as it should be. This was no dignified meeting of the city council or even the friendly citizens' gatherings that she'd frequented half a dozen times. Even from this distance, she could hear the clear sounds of argument and disagreement.

Entering the square, Andreth could see the hobbits had been constricted into a very small space at the rear of the plaza. Their numbers were fewer than she would normally have thought. But then no one had remembered that, because the curfew bell had tolled, none of those attending the meeting from outlying towns would be allowed to leave Bree till the morning, and would need to find places to sleep with friends or even outside on the streets. The Inn was full and there was no room for more visitors. In any case, preference would naturally have been given to the Big Folk.

Whatever personal views Harald and Minastan held, the two men were now chiefly occupied in placating the more vehement speakers in the crowd who were voicing their opposition in no uncertain terms. Andreth had the strangest feeling that very few were thinking seriously about the bandits and their threat. Rather, the main focus of disagreement now seemed to be the hobbits themselves, and whether or not they were deemed worthy to work alongside the other residents of Bree. For some reason she could not fully understand, Andreth went over and stood at Mausi's shoulder, although feeling very uncomfortable, as she listened to the pointed grumblings of her fellow Breelanders.

[ October 03, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]